Chances
by cheerfullyquarrelsome
Summary: Eames wants Arthur, and he's finally ready to admit it. All he wants is a chance at having him. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

It had been a year and seven months since the Fischer job. A year and seven months since Eames had heard from any member of the team he had worked with. Hey, it wasn't as if he was sore about it. It was common in high profile jobs to lose contact for a good while after, so no one could trace them to one another if something went wrong. A few months was the standard. Not a few years. But fuck it if he was going to be the first to send out a greeting card. He knew where everyone was, anyway.

Saito was still head of his company, raking in millions. Yusuf had gone back to Mombasa and his grateful dreamers. Cobb had returned to his family and was only taking on small, no risk jobs once in a while to keep monotony at bay. Ariadne was close to finishing school, keeping her nose clean and either waiting until after graduating to go back into the dream world or keeping under even his radar. And Arthur… Arthur was living in New York, but it beat him if he would actually find him there. Like himself, the point man was known to travel, taking different jobs in different countries now that Cobb was semi-retired.

The point man was who he really thought about during those long months of lost contact. To be honest, he hadn't expected anything from him. For some reason he still wasn't entirely sure of, Arthur still seemed to detest him, even when he did his best to put on his best behavior on that last job they'd both been a part of. It grated on him to admit that he had tried to get the man to warm up to him, to maybe even like him a little bit, but there was no use denying it. The silly crushes he'd had before were simply nothing compared to how he felt when he just managed to get a glimpse of the man.

Ever since the forger and the point man had met five years before, Eames had been smitten. Everything about the 24-year-old, the suits he wore, the measured way he talked, the stern look in his dark eyes. All new to Eames, but equally challenging and exciting. Of course, he had still been coping with his own sexuality at the time as well, so, not sure of what to do, he played it off that first time.

His attraction remained a low, steady heat in his stomach every time they worked together over the years, slowly growing each time he saw him despite the other man's indifference. When they were teamed up again for the Fischer job, he was more sure of himself and what he would want from Arthur. He'd had plenty of affairs before, trysts with young men that didn't amount to anything. Now, at thirty-two, he was tired of keeping it casual. He wanted someone he could spend his time with, wake up next to every morning. He knew he could hardly expect anything like that from the straight-laced man, but he figured as long as there was a scrap of a chance, he would pursue it.

Of course, now that the realization had dawned on him, he had no idea what to do. Calling Arthur up seemed like a bad idea. He could already hear the suspicion in the point man's voice. After all, they weren't even considered friends. Just great, the Brit thought dismally, he had to go and fall for the only man who had openly declared his dislike for him. Maybe he should just let it go. Find someone else who might fit the bill, at least until he maybe got to work with the point man again.

He got his chance sooner than he had expected when a few months later, Cobb called him up.

"_We have a job. Nothing big, just a routine extraction. We need a forger, though, if you're inclined."_

Eames clutched the phone, a small smile playing on his lips. Trying not to get his hopes up too quickly, he cleared his throat, doing his best to sound nonchalant instead of droolingly eager.

"Really now? Who's making up the rest of the team?"

"_Just Arthur and Ariadne this time."_

"Ah, the kid hadn't gotten enough last time, eh?" Eames chuckled, referring to Ariadne, wanting to leave as much emphasis off of Arthur as possible.

"_They seldom do. If you go in once, there's no going back to a dreamless way of life, for most of us. So what do you think? We're in New York, you know the place. You in?"_

Eames pretended to think it over as he checked outgoing flights and started throwing random clothing items into an overnight duffel he kept on hand. "I suppose so. Business is rather slow over here. I'll see you in eleven hours."

He snapped his phone shut, purchasing tickets to New York for the next flight out, and was out the door within ten minutes.

He did his best not to psych himself out, but eleven hours on a plane gives one a lot of thinking time. And his mind was only prepared to focus on one subject. The point man. Arthur Callahan. Black and white, crisp clean lines. That cold, calculating stare. Long fingers, pale skin, slender but fit. Dark brown eyes that always seemed to hold only disdain for him, but sometimes amusement or even grudging respect. The looks Eames lived for on those jobs. If only there were some other certain emotions held in those unreadable recesses. Like the ones Eames knew showed in his own when he wasn't careful.

Many days during their last job together, he had spent his down time fantasizing about what Arthur was hiding under those expensive three piece suits. But then he didn't think he would ever know, so he might as well come up with his own fantasies, right?

This time, however, was going to be different. He wasn't going to go out of his way to be off-putting as he usually did. His usual courting rituals just would not work on this man, so he was going to have to revise his style a little bit. But he was more than willing to do that if only for a chance. _Please, God, _he thought as he looked out of the window at the clouds, _please let me have a chance. Just a chance. _


	2. Chapter 2

Eames could already feel himself getting nervous when the plane landed, and the state got continually worse as he collected his luggage and caught an early cab, giving directions to the warehouse they always used when they were in the vicinity. He would find a hotel room later, he reasoned, because he wanted to get started on the mark. Really, he couldn't even fool himself with that one. He knew Arthur was an early bird, and he hoped he would be there with Cobb.

His heartbeat matched his steps as he ascended the stairs in the warehouse, but he ignored it as best he could when he reached the door, not hesitating before throwing it open. He was mildly disappointed when Cobb turned out to be the only one in the room. He smiled however, when the man dropped the paperwork he had been looking over onto the table in front of him and walked over. To Eames' surprise, the extractor gave him a short hug, greeting him like an old friend instead of a business associate.

"It's good to see you, Eames. I apologize for not getting in touch sooner. Even though Saito cleared the way for me back here, I still have some legalities to wade through. Tiring and very time consuming."

"Oh no, that's alright, mate, think nothing of it. How are James and Phillipa?"

Eames chuckled to himself when Cobb's smile widened as he started explaining how Phillipa had already started school and James was eagerly awaiting the day he would join her in being a 'big kid'. Eames nodded at him, clapping him on the back. He realized that he had missed Cobb, in all his drama and chaos.

"I'm happy for you. It really is good to see you, Dom. I'm glad you called me for this. It's like getting the old team back together," he added with genuine affection, and Cobb laughed. "Speaking of team, where're the rest of our lovely crew?"

"Ah, Mr. Eames, I see you've arrived."

Eames' heart skipped a beat and he stopped breathing when he heard Arthur's voice behind him. He became aware that he was making a rather questionable face for having just been greeted by an acquaintance by the bemused look Cobb was throwing his way, so he did his best to compose himself and paste on a smirk before turning around.

Arthur was there all right, donned in a clean white dress shirt, vest, black dress pants, and dark green tie. His dark hair was slicked back was usual, his sharp features standing out as if they were carved out of marble. He was just as he remembered him; it was as if he had never been gone. Like he had just seen him yesterday. Warmth spread in his stomach as if he had just knocked back a shot of whiskey, and he felt his smirk turn into a full smile.

"Observant, as usual, Arthur," he quipped, pleased that a coherent sentence had managed to leave his mouth. He was so fixated on the point man that it took him a moment to realize Ariadne had walked in with him. She skipped over and gave him a big hug, which he returned awkwardly but sincerely. Ariadne was a good kid, and had a promising future in the dream business. And she could put up with Cobb's bullshit, which was a rare quality to find in anyone.

"I'm so glad you came!" she exclaimed as she let go of him. "This is the first job I've done since Fischer, and I really wanted to work with the same people again, in a less stressful environment."

"Yea, just get Yusuf and Saito back here and it'd be a party," Eames joked, doing his absolute best not to let his gaze wander over to Arthur, who was preparing the PASIV machine on the table across the room.

"I don't know about you, but I'm glad the party isn't as big as last time," Cobb cut in, spreading out papers on the table beside Arthur. "Now, since we're all here, let's start."

The job was simple. Two businesses were going up against each other, and one thought the other had an informer for the other side. They simply wanted to know what the suspected spy knew, and if they were keeping their mouths shut about it. Cobb estimated it would take less than a week to plan it out, but they still had to map the dreamscape. Just as before, they set fifteen minutes on the machine and made themselves as comfortable as was possible in the old lawn chairs they never felt the need to upgrade from.

As usual, Arthur would be the one to make sure everyone went under okay before following himself. Eames was the last one he came to assist, pulling the PASIV cord along with him. The forger sat up straighter in his chair, rolling up his sleeve in preparation.

He once again took the opportunity to observe the point man, his face set in a professional mask of confidence as he knelt down between Eames' legs, getting the needle ready. Eames' breath caught in his throat when the man looked up at him from his position on the floor, and thanked God he had chosen to lay his jacket across his lap. He could feel himself reacting to him already. Jesus, he really had to get himself under control, or if they ever needed to enter his subconscious, everyone would be in for a nasty shock.

Trying to cover up his seemingly blatant arousal to Arthur, he coaxed that smirk back in place and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Sure you can handle this one, Arthur?" he said. The man gave him a small smile, shaking his head in exasperation.

"Go to sleep, Mr. Eames. I'll join you in a moment, and then we'll see who can handle it."

Without another word, he gently slipped the needle under the forger's skin, and Eames felt himself being pulled under by the drug, a smile still on his face.

The team ended up in an empty city-scape created as a first draft by Cobb. He stalked around them, his arms crossed as he surveyed their surroundings.

"Okay, so our mark is only familiar with this part of town, since he moved here just recently. From Arthur's observations, we know that his favorite bar is on the corner of Main Street, number 247, so that's likely to be the place we can recreate to extract the information we need," Cobb explained. "Ariadne can create the dreamscape, and I'm going to need Eames to pose as his friend who works for the other company, the one who they think our mark is informing to. I'll be more on the sidelines on this one, so Eames, I'm counting on you to do what needs to be done. Shouldn't be hard."

"So we're relying on Eames' extraction skills to get the job done. That seems like a good idea," Arthur chimed in.

Eames turned to the other man and found an uncommon, mocking glint in his eyes, his lips curved into an almost smile. "Oh, well, thank you for your confidence, Arthur. Now what was your job again? I think Dom failed to mention your overwhelmingly important role to play in this particular game," he bantered back.

Arthur did his own circling around this time, his hands in his pockets as he stepped amiably around the man. "I'll be the one fending off the projections you're sure to upset. You can thank me now instead of after, if you'd like."

"I'm sure you're both going to be just fantastic at your designated jobs, so how about we get on with this, huh?" Ariadne laughed.

Cobb just shook his head, mussing his hair with his fingers as he regarded the two. Somehow it had slipped his mind, the rivalry between the two men. But as he watched the unguarded smile on Eames' face and the amused quirk of Arthur's lips, the quiet sense of doubt disappeared.

He didn't know if something had changed between the two men, but the near hostility and annoyance that usually accompanied the jesting was surprisingly absent. In fact, they both looked at ease with each other; Eames with his arms held comfortably behind his back and Arthur's thumbs hooked in his belt loops instead of having his arms crossed defensively over his chest. He supposed working the inception job really had loosened things up between them. Whatever it was, he was thankful for the fact that he wouldn't have to deal with the same bickering he had last time.

"Okay, Ariadne's right. We need to stay focused, no matter how easy the job may seem," he said finally. "Now today I just wanted to do a walkthrough of the surroundings, become familiar with them."

Cobb started leading them down the street, and Eames shot a glance at Arthur. The younger man smirked at him good naturedly before following. Eames couldn't help but allow the grin that found its way to his lips as he felt himself blush at the mere favorable look. Arthur already seemed less annoyed with him than he usually did. He had actually given him a smile, and an Arthur smile was about as rare as an eclipse.

He didn't dare get his hopes up, though. The point man could just be having a good day. But part of him hoped that maybe it was because of him. Maybe Arthur was warming up to him. Maybe he even liked him a little bit. He shook his head curtly as he followed the others, his hands delving into his pockets. _Now don't get ahead of yourself, _he scolded. But the good mood he had been put in held on for the rest of the day.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for reading everyone :)

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The next day was devoted to preparing Eames for his 'role' as their mark's friend, Adam Westley. He had read up on him the night before, and after their trial of the surroundings in the dream, he had a chance to see the man in action. Using his usual charms, he had succeeded in requesting Adam to give him a tour of the place, posing as a potential investor. He had spent an hour and a half studying the man's mannerisms, characteristics, and traits. Now he felt ready to test out the 'prototype', as he liked to call them. Cobb had decided early on that because of Arthur's critical nature, he would be the one to go under with Eames to act as John Quid, the target. He would decide if the forger's act would suffice, or if it needed improvement.

"You're really sending Arthur here in with me? To criticize? You do realize that at the rate he likes to do that, we'll be down there for months," Eames said with a quirk of his lips as he sat on the edge of one of the chairs, rolling up his sleeve once more.

"It's a good thing we have you on a timer, then," Cobb replied with a complacent smile.

Arthur scoffed and shook his head at both of them, sitting down himself. "I'm not going to be biased either way. I know your abilities, Mr. Eames. If there are any areas to improve, I'll be sure to let you know. But today, I plan on being the one to practice on, and that alone."

Eames looked over in surprise, attempting to in ignore all the sexual innuendos he could take from that sentence. This time, condescension didn't seem to be the leading tone in his voice. Actually, Arthur seemed to have been offhand about his comment, as if he hadn't even thought about it. He didn't believe the point man had ever said anything nicer to him, and he hadn't even meant to. He remained impassive, however, keeping that mask on.

"I get Arthur all to myself to practice on? Sounds like a good time," he leered, directing a wink at the man. He just rolled his eyes and pulled two leads over from where he sat.

"Try to behave yourself, Mr. Eames," he said as he handed one to the forger.

Eames took it from him, grinning. "No promises, darling."

Arthur sighed resignedly as he injected himself, motioning to Cobb. Making sure they were both ready, he pressed the button, and they both slipped into unconsciousness.

The next thing he knew, he was on the sidewalk outside the bar they had toured the morning before. This time, the sky was overcast and dark, and people were running past him, trying to find some kind of shelter from the oncoming rain. Arthur's projections paid him no notice as he stared at his reflection in the glass window of the bar. Only it wasn't really his reflection. Looking back at him was a slightly shorter man with a thin build, thick black-framed glasses, dark hair, and a clean shaven face. He wore a suit and carried a briefcase, and he had to shake his head at Arthur's unending practicality.

Satisfied with his appearance, he entered the establishment. He found Arthur immediately at the bar, already nursing a drink. He began his walk toward the point man, taking on the short, stiff strides of the businessman. His mouth turned slightly up in an anxious smile as he sat down next to Arthur, placing his briefcase down carefully at his side.

"Hey John, how've you been?" he asked, his accent replaced by a slight Northern dialect. He watched as Arthur raised his eyebrows at him, then straightened up and cleared his throat as if he were getting ready for a role of a lifetime. Eames had to refrain from telling him what a terrible actor he was.

"I've been worse," he finally chose, and Eames let out a small, mousy laugh.

"Tell me about it. Work's been on my ass all day about the Stone project, so for now, all I need's a stiff drink."

He motioned the bartender over and ordered a Bay Breeze. A terrible drink, but it was what his boy liked, unfortunately. He saw Arthur wrinkle his nose out of the corner of his eye. Even the point man knew Eames' preferred drink was brandy. Eames observed the other man's half empty glass and called the bartender back. "Can I also get another Disaronno on the rocks, please?"

Arthur blinked at him, and he was prepared to get a verbal bashing for assuming he wanted another drink, but he just gave him a puzzled look. "You know what I drink."

Eames could feel his lips curving up in a smile, but he tried his best to stay in character, since it obviously wasn't very high on Arthur's list. "Of course I do, you order the same thing every time we come here," he replied, giving him a sidelong glance, trying to bring him back.

Arthur shook his head, smiling gently to himself. "Right, sorry, must be a bit off today. Long day at work, you know?" he backtracked.

Eames gave him a satisfied smile. "Long day," he agreed, taking a long draw of his drink that had just arrived, succeeding in not grimacing at the taste. "So what about you? How goes it in your neck of the woods?"

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, rubbing his fingers along his jawline. "Do you think that'll be a little too obvious?" he asked, abandoning his character completely.

Eames pursed his lips in thought. "My thought is they've already been talking about it, there won't be any tip-toeing around the subject. If they haven't, he'll avoid or deflect," he answered, deciding to indulge the point man.

Arthur nodded, but his small frown remained. "True, but let's assume John refuses to respond to the question the way we would expect him to if he was, in fact, an informer."

"If he reacted with an ignorant nonchalance, or suspicion, or anger?"

"Right. . . oh, you know. Same old, same old."

"Really, because you're looking a bit haggard, my friend. Boss getting the whips and chains out?"

"Oh no, it's fine, really. We've just been pushing to get this job done."

"Ah, right, right, right. Why is this job so important again?"

Eames secured two more drinks for them, immediately sipping his. Arthur did the same.

"They think it's the company's big come-back. If we can finish the job, we'll be unstoppable."

"Sounds like an impossible task to me. Why do you think it has any chance of working?"

"Well I-" Arthur stopped mid sentence, furrowing his brows once more. "How are you doing that?"

"Doing what?" Eames asked, but his smile betrayed him.

Arthur pointed at him. "You're extracting. But, instead of having the mark place secrets in a secure place, you make them want to tell you. How?"

Eames laughed, his own voice coming back for a moment. "A magician never reveals his tricks."

Arthur rolled his eyes, nudging him with his elbow. Eames had to physically restrain himself from not leaning into the touch. "Come on," Arthur cajoled. "I've never seen it executed so successfully."

"Well, as your point man brain already knows, when I wasn't thieving around England, I was majoring in psychology and social science in college, once I got out of the military. Well, along with dabbling a bit in anatomy and anthropomorphism. It's the art of paying attention, really. Watch how the subject moves and reacts to their surroundings. Mimic their poses so they're unconsciously more comfortable around you. Keep your face serene, empathize at the right moments. Keep your body turned towards them, but just below eye level so they feel as if they're the dominant of the two. Also, it doesn't hurt to oil the hinges a bit," he finished, taking another small sip of his drink as an example. His smile widened when Arthur's own hand made its way to his glass. "Seeing the person you're with take a drink makes your own thirst reaction kick in, and you therefore feel obliged to do the same."

"Very impressive, Mr. Eames," Arthur admitted, putting his glass back down with a quiet laugh.

Eames smiled, bowing his head in silent thanks. The fact was, he didn't know if he trusted himself to speak at this point. He was so unused to the other man actually acting, well, happy, around him. Smiling, laughing, complimenting his skills honed by years of hard work. He wasn't sure how to react. But he knew his heart was pounding hard in his chest and that warmth in his stomach refused to leave as they continued the rest of the practice.

It seemed only a short time later when the familiar music started playing, which signaled that they only a few moments left before their time was up. Eames took the opportunity to suck down the rest of his drink, no longer concerned about the taste with the buzz he had going, power of suggestion or not.

Even Arthur was looking less like his usual stick in the mud self, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie loosened around his neck. God, Eames loved seeing him this way. The worry lines temporarily erased, his dark eyes untroubled, curved lips set in an almost undetectable grin.

Eames realized he was staring and quickly averted his gaze and concentrated on his empty glass, swallowing hard.

"I don't see that you'll have any problems with this one," Arthur said confidently, forcing Eames to look back up at him. He let the image of Adam Westley slide away, and he almost thought he saw an actual smile play across the point man's lips, but it was gone so fast he wasn't sure.

Giving him a full fledged grin, he clapped him on the back in what he hoped was a completely platonic gesture. "Thanks, old boy, it means a lot coming from you," he said honestly.

Arthur seemed surprised by this. "It does?" he said, looking like he didn't believe a word Eames was saying.

"Well, you're only the best point man in the business, so no, I guess your opinion doesn't count for much, does it?" he joked, still smirking. He was delighted when he saw a blush creep up the other man's face as he looked down, trying to hide it. Eames knew he was only seeing this side of him because of alcohol consumption, and made a mental note to take the point man out drinking for real soon.

As if knowing the forger's train of thought, Arthur spoke, still bowing his head but at least making eye contact. "I think you've had too much to drink, Mr. Eames."

"Oh, I have, have I? While you don't even look like our point man anymore, look at this." He plucked at Arthur's rolled up sleeve, and the man laughed, dimples showing at the corners of his mouth. Oh God, those dimples. "You know, I like seeing you this way," he added before he could stop himself. Arthur just waved him off, but he still had the remnants of that laugh on his face. It was the last thing Eames saw before he woke up.

Daylight stung his eyes as he became conscious once more, and he sat up in his chair, unhooking himself from the machine. Arthur was already up and about, writing notes in the pad he always carried with him.

"How'd it go?" Cobb asked, leaning against the table, armed crossed. Ariadne moved to stand next to Arthur, who was packing up the PASIV device.

"It was very satisfactory. I don't think Mr. Eames will have any trouble getting the information we need. His skills in extraction are actually quite impressive."

Cobb nodded, shooting Eames an approving glance, but not looking surprised. "Excellent. Next time I'll go in with you, just as a kind of rehearsal. Probably tomorrow. For now we need to concentrate on when we can get access to John Quid."

The rest of the day was spent looking over the mark's schedule to see when they could possibly put him under. Eames, however, had trouble concentrating. He kept on glancing over at Arthur, his heart speeding whenever the point man met his gaze, greeting it with a controlled but not unkind look before going back to the task at hand.

Eames desperately wanted to read more into those quick glances, but the point man just hid things so well, even from the best forger in the business. But one thing was certain. Arthur had warmed up to him for an unknown reason, and he intended to take full advantage of it. He was already mapping out the rest of the week in his head.

Maybe he could chance being a little more assertive. Starting conversations instead of waiting to be engaged. Maybe he could ask Arthur out for a couple of drinks after their session tomorrow. Maybe Arthur would say yes, and he could continue to 'oil the hinges'. Put the other man at ease, show him that he really wasn't a bad guy. That maybe he could be friends with him. Or more. God, he wanted more. But he knew he had to be patient. He would always be patient, if he thought he might have a change to get closer to the point man. Maybe even succeed in getting the other man to love him just a fraction as much as he loved Arthur.

Because he did love him, he realized with a start. Maybe not with his whole being just yet, as romantics were fond of talking about. But he did know that no matter what happened, he was a tiny bit in love with the man. More so than he had been during the inception job, and it would probably feel stronger even the next day. When maybe they would get drinks together and see where things led.

By the end of the day, Eames was made up of a mix of heady giddiness and nerves, but no one would ever know by the calm on the outside. Cobb gave him a smile and a nod on his way out the door. Eames grinned back, but his heart leapt into his throat when Arthur approached him.

"It's good to work with you again, Mr. Eames," he said, extending his hand, which Eames shook with a surprisingly steady hand. "I'm glad you could make it on this job."

The forger refrained from making a sexual remark about only coming around for the sake of the point man and nodded humbly.

"To work with such a fine team again is my pleasure," he murmured instead, holding Arthur's gaze and tightening his grip on his hand briefly, reflexively pulling the other man closer to him before he could stop. He held his breath when a slow pink tinge worked its way into Arthur's cheeks, and a flash of _something _showed in his eyes, as if he could momentarily see into the forger's mind and what he was involved with in there. And he didn't seem to mind.

"Hey Arthur, you ready to go?" Ariadne's voice seemed to slam Arthur back into reality. He slid his hand out of Eames', taking in a sharp breath, and Eames saw the mental barriers he had almost let down erect themselves once more, those brown eyes going flat and indifferent as he turned to the girl.

"Yea, sure," he replied, straightening his tie. One of Eames' favorite nervous tics.

"You can walk down with us, if you want," Ariadne nodded toward Eames as she shrugged her jacket on. Eames glanced at Arthur, who seemed to be doing his best to remain his usual collected self, but he could see him swallow hard, shooting him an unsure look that for some reason set a fire deep inside him, causing his own mouth to go dry.

Clearing his throat, he waved a dismissal. "I'm just going to finish up a few things here first. I'll see you both tomorrow, then," he insisted, being careful to keep his gaze on Ariadne. She acquiesced with a smile and led the way out, Arthur giving him an awkward half smile before following.

Once the door was closed, Eames sat down heavily, expelling a breath. That look in his eyes. He couldn't have been imagining that. That look had almost mirrored what Eames felt every time he was near the man. An unexplainable warmth and fondness coupled with the attraction he had tried so hard to get rid of but failed. Somehow he had projected some of those emotions so that Arthur could see them, feel them, and he hadn't run away. That had to mean something.

He had to ask now. He had to know if he was crazy or if Arthur maybe felt more for him than he was letting on.

Scrambling up from his chair, he threw on his coat and made his way out the door, intending to catch Arthur and ask him to go get that drink before tomorrow. And if he said yes and the drinks led to something more, his mind couldn't help but entertain the idea. He didn't want him drunk, that was no good at all. But with a little liquid courage, Arthur would be able to let go of his inhibitions a little bit and maybe admit to some things Eames would love to hear.

That he didn't mind him so much anymore, that he actually kind of liked him. In fact, he had been having these. . . feelings lately that didn't seem right but he couldn't help himself. If he found those curved, pale lips on his, no space between them as they tried to get as close to each other is they could, like he'd so often fantasized about.

He was wondering if his hotel room would suffice when his logical side cut in. _You're getting ahead of yourself, just take it one step at a time. _But a smile was on his face and butterflies in his stomach as he trotted down the stairs and burst through the door to the parking lot, rounding the corner of the building to where he was parked. He stopped short, his grin fading and his heart sinking like a stone in his chest when he did find Arthur.

He could hear Ariadne giggle as Arthur kissed her neck, his hands keeping a steady grip on her waist as she arched into him. Arthur's playful _shush _traveled across the deserted lot, and he lifted his head back up to join their lips, pressing her into the car she was leaning against.

Eames realized he was still watching and ducked behind the corner of the building, his back slamming against the cold brick.

How could he have missed it? Arriving and leaving together, their close proximity to one another at all times. He had been so focused on Arthur, who hid anything personal from everyone, to notice Ariadne's blatant affection for the point man, or if he had, he had just assumed it was a crush. Not this.

Eames' stomach was turning, the heat that had been there only moments before replaced by something as cold and heavy as cement. He thought he could almost feel his heart hurt as he tried to hold back tears of disappointment and shame. How he ever thought Arthur might in any way reciprocate what he was feeling, he honestly didn't know anymore. If Arthur ever found out about his want for him, he would be disgusted, horrified. Because why would a man Eames actually fancied share the same preferences as him? He had just been seeing what he wanted to see.

He rubbed his hand over his face and sniffed, trying to pull himself together. It wasn't the end of the world. There were plenty of other men out there who would gladly receive what Eames had to offer. He could choose from any one of them. But his treacherous mind kept reminding him that those men weren't what he wanted. They weren't Arthur, and he didn't think they would be good enough.

Waiting was utter torture, but finally he was sure they were gone. Probably off to Arthur's apartment. Because that's what normal, socially acceptable couples did. They went back to each other's places. There was no room for him, a thief who liked the boys, in that picture. So he did what he thought would be a more suitable action for a man like him. He found the nearest pub and got piss drunk.

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	4. Chapter 4

Eames had hoped that the amount of alcohol he had consumed would wipe his memory of everything that had happened the night before, but the next morning the scene was still playing in his mind, seeming to expand with every pound of his aching head. In hindsight, that fifth glass of brandy and fourth shot of Jaeger had not been the wisest idea he'd ever had. But he'd tried to do anything he could to forget, or at least turn the pain down. Blur it or smudge it somehow. Funny how that trick never worked when you wanted it to.

He made it to work, though, two aspirin and a swig of Pepto in his stomach. He had resolved to make it through the week, finish up the job, before dropping off the map again. Hopefully so far off the map that the point man wouldn't even be able to find him. Not that he'd care to look.

Wincing at the bright light streaming in through the windows of the warehouse, Eames shrugged out of his jacket, throwing it carelessly on the nearest chair and making a beeline for the coffeemaker. He was aware of Cobb sidling up to him and nodded vacantly in greeting, pouring black coffee into a mug and taking a long sip.

"Have a little too much fun last night, Eames?" he asked, looking a little concerned at his friend's disheveled appearance.

Eames scoffed bitterly, hunching over into the steam from his cup and turning to the other man. "I wouldn't call it fun," he responded, taking a cursory glance around the room.

"They went out to get breakfast," Cobb said, and Eames just grunted, downing more of his drink. Cobb was still looking at him, his arms crossed, his head tilted, as if waiting for an explanation. Eames ignored him, and he thought he was going to get away with it until the other man changed tactics. "If it wasn't what you would call 'fun', then what was it?"

Eames tensed, clenching his teeth, ducking his head down, his eyebrows pulling together as he tried to push back the rush of emotions that came with thinking about the night before. The deep ache he had felt in his chest ever since flared, and he swallowed hard, something clicking in his throat. He couldn't even come up with a lie that would pass the Cobb inspection, so he just shrugged helplessly. "Trying to suppress. To forget," he admitted, finally looking up.

He met Cobb's gaze, and the other man didn't even have to ask what it was he was trying to forget. The heartbreak in the Brit's eyes was too evident to ignore. It only took what he knew about the forger and how his disposition had been the day before, how happy and carefree he had seemed, to know what must have happened.

Cobb had known about Arthur and Ariadne and had assumed Eames would find out on his own time. But he had never guessed the forger would take it this hard, that he had such strong feelings for their point man. He sighed, not knowing what to say. He didn't get much of a chance before Arthur and Ariadne arrived with take-out bags.

Eames' attitude changed immediately as soon as he saw Arthur. He straightened up, puffing out his chest and leaning back against the counter casually, a look of uncaring nonchalance replacing the hurt in his eyes. It was like he had never been upset in the first place. Here was the Eames who had worked with them during the inception job. The Eames who drifted from place to place, never making attachments, as carefree as anyone would want to be. It was almost scary how quickly he could change.

Arthur glanced over in their direction, smiling slightly. "Glad you could join us, Mr. Eames," he jested, setting the food down on the table.

A flash of something, hurt anger jealousy, flickered across the forger's face, but it was gone a split second later, and the smug grin was back, secured in place. "I knew you would be. After all, what's a job without the forger, eh?" he said, his tone full of sarcasm and self-deprecation.

Arthur's smile faded a little, and puzzlement knitted his brows for a moment. He had detected the subtle change in behavior from the day before. The look in Eames' eyes seemed distinctly cold and distant, but perhaps he was imagining things. "Ready to impress Cobb here with your extraction skills?" he tried again.

Eames smiled vaguely, taking another sip from his cup. "Always." With that, he sauntered over to his designated work space and sat with his back to everyone. It stayed this way until it was their time to go under once again.

The forger was ever the professional during this second test run. He demonstrated what he had done before to Cobb, going over every possible scenario they could think of and coming up with a solution for each conversation that could branch out from the original start. Eames' performance was just as solid as it had been, but he could see that Arthur noticed a difference. His brow kept furrowing subtly and he seemed unsure, but Eames couldn't find it in himself to feel bad about it. He barely found it in himself to get this job done.

After spending three hours in the dream world the rehearsal was finally over and they woke up. The sun was setting, and Cobb told them they could all pack up early today. The job was coming along nicely, he explained, so they deserved to have a break.

Eames sat in his corner, watching out of the corner of his eye as the couple got ready to leave together. The way Ariadne leaned into him, giving subtle caresses on the shoulder, arm, back, hand. Arthur's gentle smile, his body turned towards her, his hands relaxed. Now that he knew, it was glaringly obvious, and he was still surprised at how much it hurt.

He looked up from his chair when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Cobb was staring vacantly into the room, but Eames could tell he was focusing on him at the moment. The man nodded toward the door, his gaze settling on him after a few more seconds.

"What do you say we go get a drink?" he said, not leaving an option open to say no.

Eames' eyes flicked once more to the sight in front of him before he rose from his seat, hastily throwing on his jacket. "You choose the place."

Cobb's idea of going to get drinks turned out to be a bit more fancy than Eames' usual take on the meaning. They ended up at an exclusive, high-end restaurant on the upper west side of Manhattan; mahogany furniture, red velvet cushions, smoking and non-smoking sections, the whole posh picture. Eames set his hand down on the counter as they sat at the bar. It wasn't even sticky. He almost felt jipped out of the true drinking experience. But when he spotted his favorite brandy on the shelf behind the bartender, he figured a place like this could still get the job done.

The two men hadn't said a word to one another in the cab on the way over, and Eames refused to be the one to break the silence. He didn't even know what Cobb wanted from him, really. He had obviously deduced what was going on, because he wasn't a complete idiot. So maybe this wasn't going to be some heart-to-heart bullshit. Maybe he just didn't want him to have to drink alone tonight, and volunteered like a good friend would. _Please let that be it, _Eames silently begged, taking his first long sip of his drink.

Cobb took a considerably smaller one from his own and turned to him, that look already in his eyes. The look that said the big talk was coming. _Shit._

"It's that bad, huh," he stated more than questioned, and Eames felt his shoulders sag and his mental barriers unwillingly crumble. Trying to reclaim some sense of dignity, he scratched his head, hiding the urge to clench his fists, and blinked rapidly. He desperately didn't want to cry. Not here, not now, in front of his essential employer, of all people. Especially over another man. But it was that bad, and he couldn't hide that. It really was that fucking bad.

"I like to try to fool myself into thinking it isn't," he finally answered, drudging up a sardonic smile. He found that it hurt his mouth and his chest when he smiled like that, so he stopped.

Cobb sighed, nodding almost to himself more than Eames, and took another drink. "I feel like I should have told you sooner, about Arthur and Ariadne. I'm sorry, I just didn't know."

Eames shrugged, the corners of his lips pulling down in a grimace. "All that matters is I found out when I did, eh? Before I could go and make a proper fool of myself. So there you are, silver lining and all that."

"How would you have made a fool of yourself, Eames?" Cobb asked doubtfully, turning towards him on his stool, waving his hand at the thought.

Eames snorted, shaking his head as he stared down into his glass. "No, I can only imagine what would have happened if I'd…" he trailed off, rubbing his hand across his face dejectedly.

Cobb was silent, as if knowing the man was going to continue. And Eames did.

Now that it was admitted that he did in fact have feelings for Arthur, he couldn't seem to shut his mind up about it, and he couldn't help but find himself vocalizing how he felt, maybe more to himself than Cobb. "I'm just tired of being alone. And I've been bloody everywhere, you know, all over the world. I've met my share of people, but no one's ever made me feel the way Arthur does. And I don't even know why. He's been a royal prick with his head up his own arse most of the time, but I still looked forward to every job I worked with him. I would do almost anything to get his attention or maybe even praise, but I took what I could get. When you called about this job, I thought it could be my second chance, you know? I came, and he seemed like he didn't hate me this time."

Eames could feel his eyes begin to sting, and a lump formed in his throat, but he kept going. "He smiled at me, and during the practice yesterday, we. . . connected and it almost seemed like. . . but I was just deluding myself into thinking that I had any kind of chance. I mean, he's not even. . ." he trailed off, not even able to form the word. Because suddenly he was ashamed of it. Hated it. That one little word.

It had taken him so long to come to terms with the fact that he was gay. He had known since he was a young teenager, but having a father who frequently expressed his feelings of hatred toward that one minority in particular, he had tried to ignore how he felt. Or at least keep it hidden from everyone when he became too old to ignore his hormones.

He even ridiculed them along with his father on some occasions, maybe so that he could feel closer to him, maybe so his father wouldn't catch on to how his own son was part of this group. Probably both, Eames reasoned when he looked back on it.

His deception had worked remarkably well until he threw it all away when his father actually caught him with another boy. If he worked at it, he could still remember the way the other boy's lips felt on him. Eames had been sixteen, the other boy a little older. They were on his bed, and he had been a little scared and breathless and aching with want when the boy began unbuttoning his jeans.

He had had no experience with anyone, he remembered, and had whimpered pitifully when his partner had wrapped his lips around the head of his stiff cock, unable to help himself.

He had just been about to come for the first time ever with someone else's help when his father had burst into the room. It was the single most mortifying thing that had happened in his young life. Watching that boy bolt out the door and his father just staring at him. As if he were the most horrible, disgusting thing on the planet. He had kicked him out the next day, yelling after him how he wouldn't have a fucking faggot living under his roof.

Years after that, even after his father was good and dead, he still hadn't been close to anyone again. Instead, he enrolled in the army and was sent into dream scouting, which immediately became his passion. During the required therapy visits, he finally admitted his sexual orientation and with help, overcame a lot of the damaging effects his father had inflicted on him.

But it only took so much for Eames to remember that hate and disappointment in his father's eyes and wish that he was different. Wish that he was anything but who he was.

Draining his glass, he beckoned for another, laughing bitterly at his own thoughts. Cobb raised his eyebrows in question. Eames shook his head, still chuckling.

"Just makes me think of how much I would give to be someone else sometimes. Why I became a forger, really. You play so many people, sometimes you forget who you really are. Best part of the job."

Cobb sighed, his hands wrapped tightly around his glass. "It'll get better, you know. It doesn't seem like it now, but it does. Eventually."

"Oh, I know it will," Eames agreed enthusiastically. "In fact, it should soon fade from my memory, especially since I never even had him to begin with."

There was a long pause where Cobb just watched Eames, slouched over the bar, slowly swirling the ice around in his glass.

Eames spoke again, almost whispering. "That saying, 'better to have loved and lost' must be true. Because I can hardly bear the thought of never being able to love him. I speak to him, but I can't tell him. I see him, but I can't touch him. And I never will. And that pain is…" trailing off, he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

Cobb put a gentle hand on the man's shoulder, not knowing what else to do. Eames seemed to snap out of it, sniffing. "I shouldn't be doing this. Whining to you about something so trivial, I apologize," he said abruptly.

Cobb just tightened his grip on his arm, his eyes narrowing. "Don't say that. You know I'm your friend, not just your business partner. Believe it or not, this is what friends do for one another," he insisted.

"I just didn't want to have to depend on anyone for this. This isn't who everyone knows me to be."

"You don't have to act with me, Eames. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that. I'm thinking I'll have to beat it into you."

Cobb was finally rewarded with a small smile, and Eames turned to him with slightly damp eyes, his fingers shaking against his glass. "Thanks, mate. I'm absolute rubbish with words, but I am grateful. Now I promise I won't let this effect my work on this job. I'll just get in and get out, and after I'll just. . ." he paused, not sure what he had been planning to say. He hadn't planned anything after this job.

He supposed he had his apartment in Mombasa to go back to, but the thought didn't appeal to him at all. He realized that he had been depending on something with Arthur to work out so determinedly that now nothing seemed like it would suffice. He barely even wanted to exist, so he couldn't find himself being enthusiastic about any next step he took.

Shrugging once again, he turned his attention to his glass. "I guess I'll just disappear."


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks everyone for the kind reviews! They make me absurdly happy.

* * *

Eames kept his promise on not being distracted on the job. He was as professional as he usually got, still managing to be the one who appeared the least together, cracking half-hearted jokes and keeping his desk a mess. Eames thought he was doing a pretty decent job of playing himself, actually. But he didn't have everyone fooled, and he could sense that.

Arthur was keeping an eye on him the entire time. Under any other circumstances, Eames would have been delighted at the extra attention, but now he was having a hard enough time trying to ignore and suppress his feelings for the point man, and he was just making it that much harder.

All he wanted to do was forget, to be able to erase the man completely from his mind, but he didn't think it was possible, even in their line of work. So every time Arthur so much as glanced in his direction, he made sure to have his mask of 'Job Eames' secured in place; eyes bright and mischievous, lips curled up in a smirk. It really was getting tiring, playing himself, or the facsimile of himself. He found that he was really looking forward to this job being over, so he could take himself off the map again. And maybe forget who he was for a while.

The job was to be done the next day, during John Quid's scheduled dentist appointment to get his wisdom teeth removed. He was due to be out for an hour, which would be more than enough time to get their job done.

Eames was the last to leave, more often than not, so it was this day that he was sitting at his desk, waiting for the warehouse to be empty. His ear was keenly aware of the shuffling of the other two in the room, packing up and preparing to leave for the day. Leave to Arthur's Manhattan apartment, he couldn't help but remind himself. He mentally waved that thought away without much success. Compartmentalizing had never been never his strong suit.

He listened to their near departure despite knowing it would fuel his misery about the whole situation, half hoping that it would go on, just so he could know Arthur was close to him. Ugh, pathetic. He tensed, though, when he heard the door open, and then very clearly, Arthur to Ariadne.

"I'll meet you in the car, just give me a minute, okay?"

Eames' stomach twisted, his heart galloping in his chest as those familiar footsteps made their way toward him. He could even smell the other man's aftershave as he got closer, and that damn warmth spread in his stomach again. He ground his teeth, preparing to put his working mask in place.

"Mr. Eames, can I have a word with you?"

He spun in his swivel chair, his face made up in a careful expression of polite interest. He raised his eyebrows, nodding for the other man to continue.

Arthur opened his mouth, paused, closed it again, gesturing to Eames with a raised hand. If he didn't know any better, Eames would have said the point man was nervous. Since when did a quick discussion with him rankle Arthur so much?

Eames sighed, climbing out of his chair and grabbing his coat. "Is this really important? It's been a long day and I'd rather like to relax before tomorrow," he explained without much enthusiasm, heading for the door.

Arthur intercepted him. "Yes, it's important," he said, all business, his voice sharp and commanding.

Eames just blinked, not in the mood to hear any criticisms or accusations that were sure to accompany that tone.

Arthur continued anyway. "You've changed. On this job, you- in the beginning we-"

Eames stared as Arthur floundered for words, his face darkening. Discussing the reasons why he hadn't been as 'normal' this week was the last thing he wanted. Betraying his calm façade, his fists clenched at his sides.

"We what?" he snapped when Arthur's gesticulating began to get on his nerves.

The other man's eyes narrowed, his own hands curling into fists. "We were getting along. We were working well together. I figured after the inception job, something had changed. That we could be better colleagues, or. . . or friends. I know I've been a pain in the ass to you, but that first day. . ." he shrugged.

This wasn't what Eames had been expecting, surely, but he was not about to let his guard down that quickly. Why should he? The fact that Arthur had noticed a difference didn't change anything.

He tried to appear bored with the conversation, averting his gaze. "We were on a job posing as friends, Arthur. Of course we were getting along. Now if you still have a problem with me, I'd rather we consider it another time."

"It's not me who has a problem with you this time. You've had a problem with me from the beginning, ever since the first practice run. You haven't been able to look me in the eye. Did I do something wrong? Did I do something to offend your highly moral ethical code?" Arthur mocked, his voice steadily rising.

Eames' own anger flared at the man's tone, but tried to keep calm. "I don't know what you're talking about-"

"That's bullshit," the point man said, pointing a finger at Eames' chest. "It's not the same as it was, and I want to know why. I want to know what problem you have with me."

"I do not have a problem with you, darling," Eames said smoothly, that familiar smirk finding its place on his lips, but Arthur just waved it away.

"Fake," he accused. "You haven't been yourself around me for one second. I want it to be like it was back in the dream."

"Why? Why is it so bloody important to you, hmm? Since when have I ever been that important to you?" Eames could feel himself coming unraveled as his voice cracked on the last word, and he desperately hoped this conversation would end soon so he wouldn't give himself away.

"I thought I could consider you my friend. I hate being wrong."

"That's it then, isn't it? I'm just someone you can't quite figure out and it drives you crazy. I'm not your friend. You just like to keep an eye on me in case I do something that bothers you, or until I cross some line that I can't see, is that it?"

Arthur shook his head, looking at the other man like he'd gone completely around the bend. "That's me? That's who you think I am? Well, I guess that accounts for why you've been acting this way. It's a flattering image of me, really. But it didn't seem that way to me when we were in that bar, once the music had started. Once you'd shed your forgery and had a few drinks in you."

Eames paled, his mouth setting in a thin line, his fingernails digging into his palms. He had hoped Arthur hadn't read much into what had happened during those short few minutes. That had been when he thought he'd had a chance. Now, having his actions thrown back in his face in that mocking voice made all the things he'd been trying to forget come rushing back to him.

He cringed, looking away. "Don't. Don't do that. It was a lapse in judgment on my part, that's it," he mumbled, rubbing his hand over his face.

"What exactly was your judgment?" Arthur asked accusingly, taking a step closer.

Eames shook his head violently. "This conversation is over."

He tried to slip past the man, but Arthur kept his spot in front of him, blocking his path. "No it's not. I want to know what's wrong with you."

_What's wrong with you? _The words echoed in Eames' head. The same words he'd been asked countless times by homophobic people, people he'd once considered friends. By his father. He fucking hated those words. He found himself grabbing Arthur by the collar of his shirt and slamming him against the wall, fully intending to haul off and hit him.

But he was suddenly very aware of how close his face was to Arthur's. The other man's face was grimly set, expectant and waiting for him to make the next move. Those dark eyes were locked on his, his mouth so close he could feel the breath on his lips. And he couldn't help himself. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Arthur's.

The point man's lips were firm and ungiving, but heat exploded in Eames' stomach when those thin lips parted slightly, reacting to him. This was enough. The feel of Arthur so close to him was enough. But it only took a split second for Eames to realize what he was doing.

The forger jerked away from Arthur with a hissed expletive as if he'd been burned and turned away, but not before he saw the shell-shocked look on Arthur's usually serene face. Eames held his head in his hands, unable to fully comprehend what he had just done. _Don't go too far, _he'd told himself. _Don't give anything away. _And then he had proceeded to completely disregard his own self-preservational voice and do the worst possible thing he could have in this situation. He honestly couldn't believe himself.

He heard Arthur clear his throat quietly behind him. "So that's the reason," he said. Any sort of inflection had abandoned his voice so it was impossible for Eames to determine what his exact reaction to his blunder would be. He continued before Eames could think of anything to say. "The reason you've been avoiding me, acting so strange. . ."

Now that he knew the other man probably wasn't going to sock him, Eames tried to retain a semblance of control over himself and half turned back to him. "I'm sorry, Arthur, I truly am. I never meant for it to go this far."

"Why did it go this far? You- you. . ." Arthur, for the second time that night, seemed at a loss for words. Eames sighed, rubbing his fingers across his forehead, contemplating another thing he couldn't believe he was about to do. He'd already potentially destroyed his entire working relationship with this man. He might as well blow the whole thing out of the water and deal with the repercussions later.

"I have feelings for you, Arthur," he started haltingly. "I have, really, ever since the inception job, and I thought rather naively that this time could bring me closer to you, in some ways. I was thrilled when the prospect seemed likely that first day. I wasn't one hundred percent certain about you, so I thought maybe, _maybe, _I had the slightest chance. But here's the punch line to the bad joke that is my life-" He finally looked up at Arthur, who was staring at him with a mixture of shock and confusion on his face. Eames smiled sadly. "You would never be interested, would you?"

He had almost asked it expecting no answer, but Arthur looked down quickly before meeting his gaze again. "Ariadne and I are getting married," he nearly whispered.

It was in this exact moment when Eames felt like he'd truly lost. He hadn't realized he'd left the smallest door of hope open to himself until it slammed shut with a resounding mental bang at Arthur's words. His breath left him and all he could do was look down again to hide any devastated expression that was sure to be showing on his face.

He nodded, biting his lip and trying desperately to get his emotions under control. "Good, that's good," he found himself saying. "You know, it's how it should be. How I should be." He paused once, sniffed, straightened up. "Congratulations, old boy, it really is good. I wish the best to you both."

"Eames," Arthur called out as he swept out the door, but he didn't stop. Tomorrow was the last day he planned to see him again, and he had to practice pretending his chest didn't ache hollowly every time he thought of it.

He didn't bother getting drunk. He just went back to his hotel room, packed the small amount of luggage he had brought with him, and splayed out on the bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling. There were no tears, no hysterics, no drama. He just felt spent. Done. It was time to move on. To get as far away from this place as he could. There was nothing left to stay for after tomorrow.

Eames didn't let his anxiety get to him when he went into the warehouse the next morning. He was a little more subdued than he usually tried to be, but he was steady and resolute about the task at hand. He even managed to avoid Arthur's pointed look when he walked in the door. He gave Cobb a passing nod, striding past everyone to situate himself at his desk. All of his computer files had been deleted, paper files shredded and burned, and any fake identification destroyed. When he left later on, it would be like he was never there.

"Ready to go?" Cobb asked, setting a cup of coffee in front of him.

Eames rubbed his hands together, bobbing his head. "You have no idea."

The job was easy. Eames was able to lead the unsuspecting John Quid into a conversation about his job and he kept his mouth shut like a steel trap. He bowed out of the bar with a slightly unfriendly, "Thanks for the drinks," only an hour after starting, having disclosed nothing about his project.

Cobb had silently questioned if they should follow and try harder, but Eames had shaken his head. Just from spending that amount of time with the man, he knew John wasn't guilty of anything more than swiping a few business pens. This was not their guy.

They rode Arthur's kick, an explosion of the bar area, back to reality. Only a few minutes had gone by, and they were able to leave John to have his wisdom teeth removed, no harm done.

Eames was first out of the place and back to the warehouse, but Arthur was hot on his heels. He seemed to know Eames' next move and didn't want him to leave without some kind of formal parting.

Eames was pulling his luggage bag from under his desk when Arthur slipped through the door. He had checked out of his hotel room that morning and had already booked a flight back to Mombasa. All he needed was to get out of there, but here was Arthur, still managing to muck up the gears for him.

The forger plastered on an atrociously fake smile as he rummaged in his coat pockets, making sure he had everything he needed while simultaneously keeping him busy enough not to think too much about his current situation.

"Well, I'm off," he said in a good cheer that he wasn't even close to feeling. "Hope to work with you again soon, there, Arthur."

He sidestepped the man, making it nearly all the way out the door before Arthur's voice stopped him.

"It's on the 23rd of May, the wedding," he said uncertainly. "I hope you can come."

Eames half turned his head, nodded once in affirmation that he'd heard, and left without saying anything. He couldn't say anything. Not while his head and heart were screaming everything he was trying so hard to repress. God it hurt. It hurt that he never asked to fall in love with Arthur. He had even tried not to. But he had gone ahead and done it anyway because he always did the stupid thing. Went down the wrong path, chose what would make him the most miserable. Why would he do that? Why would he choose to feel like he couldn't live without someone he could never have? It made him ache and his chest was tight and it was hard to breathe. He was so angry and sad and hopeless and he hated it. But mostly he hated himself for being this way. He hated himself more than anything.

He pulled out his worn poker chip and rubbed his thumb across it, wishing to God this wasn't real but knowing that it was. On the plane back to his home he just stared out the window, clutching the chip in his hand, imagining himself a better life. Maybe it was time to pay Yusuf another visit. Then maybe his own imaginings could become his reality.


	6. Chapter 6

Eames stood on the threshold of his flat in Mombasa approximately fifteen hours following his boarding of a plane in New York. The airline had lost his luggage after refusing to let him have it as a carry-on. Deciding that an hour and a half was quite enough time to spend in baggage claim, along with the certainty that the hearing in his right ear would forever be impaired compliments of the screaming child held alarmingly close to his head the whole time, he had decided that his duffel was not worth it and left empty-handed.

The cabbie he'd managed to snare, new to the country, got lost four times on the way to his home despite Eames' directions, and overcharged on top of it. This left Eames with an empty wallet to start the week with.

Realizing he'd lost his key somewhere between Morocco and Mombasa during his second flight, the irony did not escape him as he picked the lock to his own door. _Having one of my neighbors call the cops on me for breaking into my own flat would just be the cherry on top, now, wouldn't it…_

When he finally got into the place he stood up from where he was crouched in the hallway, his hand falling on the doorknob. Finally he was here. He was home. And as he stared around at the familiar setting, warm colors and his smell and his personal belongings, he couldn't even muster up a positive thought. This wasn't what home was supposed to feel like. Hell, he didn't feel anything at all.

Shutting the door behind him a little more violently than was probably necessary, he crossed the room to the sofa and sat down heavily, cradling his head in his hands. There had to be a next step he could take; a next step he could think of at least.

Eames had done the best he could. He had pursued that chance just as he had promised himself he would. He felt that he had tried hard enough to make it happen. But that didn't change anything. Arthur didn't want him. That path was a dead end, and now he would have to find a way to live with that.

Sucking in a deep breath, he rested his chin on his fists and looked around his apartment. This was the place where he'd thought about Arthur. Where he had first discovered he wanted more than to get the elusive point man into bed. That if Arthur could just feel friendly towards him, he could be happy. Cultivating fantasies and letting himself play around with the idea of their lives together, should it work out. Waiting for the next job he would work with him, his heart leaping into his throat every time his phone rang.

Now it had to end. The first step, he decided, was to get the fuck out of this place.

The only person he cared to inform of his impending departure was Yusuf, mainly because he wanted to know his chances of getting his hands on a PASIV machine. For personal reasons, he explained when the chemist inquired.

Eames really should have seen the lecture coming, but endured it resignedly as Yusuf told him he didn't need his own PASIV machine. How it was the easiest way to lose sight of yourself and what was real. "Just look at my dreamers! Look at what Cobb went through, and don't forget it. You don't want to end up like that."

The forger held his tongue, knowing his argument that he might want to lose himself would not go over well with his friend, and accepted that living in a dream for the rest of his life was not a viable option. Instead, he gave Yusuf a dismal 'thank you' and promised he would let him know when he settled somewhere new.

Eames hoped the man wasn't going to hold his breath on that last affirmation, because he didn't plan on stopping any time soon. He was going to run for a bit; try to leave his thoughts behind and go far enough so maybe they wouldn't catch up with him.

* * *

It took four months. Four months for things to get better. Eames had finally slowed down and was living in New Zealand, with a new life and a new name. Now that his old wounds were on their way to starting to heal, he supposed Yusuf's refusal to let him take the easy way out had been for the best.

He spent most of his days traveling around his immediate surroundings, going to casinos and bars, being careful not to get in too much trouble. He made it a goal not to drink too much and not to meet anyone who had the potential to become a fixture in his life.

He had no friends here, only acquaintances. The only person who even knew his fake name was the bartender down the street, and all he knew was that Connor Riley was a businessman from Britain who was here for a bit of a prolonged vacation. No one knew him and he liked it that way.

During this 'vacation', Eames liked to wander through the park close to his rented flat, treating himself to the scenery and people watching whenever he got the chance. He told himself he was building his mental stash of characteristics, but he just enjoyed it; subtly mimicking the actions he saw and dropping them a moment later, a small smile on his lips as he looked out over the moors. The people watching he could forgo. It was this view he really came for.

The bright green hills glazed with dew in the early mornings, his breath huffing out in clouds rising up to meet the icy sky that lit up with streaks of pink and gold when the sun came up. When he was all alone atop this magnificent sight, watching as the day was reborn even more spectacularly than the last, was when he found the most peace. He swore, no matter how good of a forger he was, he could never develop anything half as brilliant as a New Zealand sunrise.

These were the kind of days he now lived for. He was on his own with no one calling on him, no one asking about his doings or whereabouts. He could make up stories for himself without the PASIV device. Until he got back to his apartment. Then, he couldn't pretend as well, and he wasn't partial to the world outside his own head.

He still missed talking to someone. Someone who accepted him the way he was, who wouldn't reject him. His mind turned to Cobb, and a pang of longing and loneliness shot through him. He tried to ignore it. He had gotten better at ignoring genuine feelings of any kind. Better at ignoring his mind's stupid impulses. Like thinking about Arthur.

When he inadvertently thought of even the name, the stab of melancholy grew into a cold knot in his stomach. He missed him more than he liked to admit, but it was getting better every day. Just as he had fallen more in love with the man each day, he was slowly digging his way out of it.

He was beginning to think that life without another person attached was a very real possibility, and that he could live with it. Now that he wasn't plagued with thoughts of being unhappy for the rest of his life, he welcomed the idea that it didn't have to be a bad thing, being alone. Eames found himself to be content the way he lived his life now, and figured that was the best anyone could expect to get out of life.

He didn't need anyone else to make him happy, Arthur included. Or at least that's what he liked to think. Until he saw him again.

* * *

Short chapter is short! But I felt a little continuation of what Eames would be doing after the job was necessary. Also, cliffhanger. I'm being mean today, I know. I promise it'll be worth it.


	7. Chapter 7

Eames had been taking advantage of the clear day in the park, and it was late when he made it back to town. The sun was low in the sky and a spring chill was setting in, making him shiver in his light jacket.

Digging in his pocket for his key, he halted when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his eyes narrowed. Someone was watching him. Directing his attention to the entrance of his building, his breath left him when he saw the man he had tried so hard to forget.

Arthur was sitting on the bench next to the door, all clean lines and slicked back hair, as usual. His nose and cheeks were pink from the cold, his collar pulled up, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He stood when Eames recognized him, and all of those emotions that the forger had thought he'd held back remarkably well crashed over him in a wave, rendering him speechless and paralyzed.

Unadulterated want flared through his whole being as he looked at the other man. His presence was so familiar and overwhelming, and he was just so gorgeous. God, he had missed Arthur, and now he was here. He could barely comprehend it.

Eames hadn't been able to say anything, so Arthur cleared his throat, shuffling his feet in the most awkward display Eames had ever witnessed of the point man. "Hello, Mr. Eames."

The forger just continued to stare blankly, his fingers still wrapped around his apartment key. "How did you find me?" He was vaguely pleased when his voice came out slightly bitter and not filled with the pathetic hope that he could feel at the back of his mind. He shoved it back down. This couldn't be a social visit. Something had to be wrong. "Is everything alright? Is Cobb-"

"Everything's fine. Cobb… actually told me where I might be able to find you. Even for my standards, you're a hard man to track down when you don't want to be found." Arthur offered him a small, almost apologetic smile, and Eames' already racing heart skipped painfully.

He swallowed hard, averting his gaze and wondering what the hell to do or say next. He could pound him with questions on exactly why and how he had cared to come bother him at all, probably reversing the apparent progress he'd made. But right now he just didn't have the energy.

He glanced up at his apartment window, still trying to recover from being in such close proximity to this man again. "Have you had anything to eat?"

Arthur seemed surprised at the question but shook his head. Eames nodded, stuffing his key back in his pocket, jerking his head in the direction of the street to their left. "What do you say we get some dinner then? I know a place."

The other man quickly acquiesced and Eames started down the sidewalk, knowing Arthur would fall into step beside him. He spared him passing glances-he couldn't help himself-and had to keep his hand wrapped around the worn poker chip in his pocket to make sure he wasn't under with Yusuf's help after all. But this certainly seemed to be reality, he realized with quiet disbelief.

He was so in tune with the click of Arthur's footsteps already, the swish of his coat against his pants, that he almost missed the entrance to the restaurant. He would have liked to hope Arthur hadn't noticed his reaction to him, but he would have had to be an idiot not to.

It was only when they were seated at a table that Eames had gathered enough of his wits about him to finally look the point man in the face again. His guarded eyes, straight nose, thin, pale lips. Lips he had once coaxed around his own. The memory gave him a shiver down his spine and he swallowed hard again, but managed the first smile he'd had since seeing Arthur. The other man's face cleared slightly at this, so he figured it must have been real.

"So Cobb told you where to find me, eh? Funny, I told him in confidence," he said with a quirk of his lips, his fingers still rubbing absently over the poker chip in his pocket, more for something to do with his hands than anything else.

Arthur ducked his head, having the decency to look slightly abashed. "I know, I'm sorry. I just felt that it was important for me to see you again, after last time."

Eames knew he was waiting for him to ask, but he didn't. Not right now. Instead he asked about any new jobs he had taken up, how his life was going; trying to keep the conversation light and steered away from himself.

The forger was surprised to find dinner going by pleasantly. Almost too much so. It reminded him of their shared dream at the bar. Arthur was smiling and amiable, actually seeming to enjoy his company. That twinge of pain on thinking back on that job was still there, but it made him realize how much he had missed talking to the other man. He grinned as Arthur told him what he had been doing for the past few months, and that familiar warmth rose in his chest when the man returned his smile.

They only stayed for one glass of wine before departing and heading back the way they had come, the sky fully dark and a cold wind blowing.

"You manage to find yourself a hotel room yet?" Eames asked, rubbing his hands together against the chill.

Arthur stuffed his hands in his pockets and he walked beside the forger. "Not yet. This trip was kind of- impromptu."

Eames nodded, but his lips turned down in a frown. He supposed he couldn't put if off much longer. Might as well bite the bullet and get it over with. "Why did you come here, then? What was so important that you had to track me down?"

Nothing was said during the next few minutes, but Eames knew something was coming by the way Arthur's brow furrowed, trying to figure out the best words to use.

Eames really hadn't known what he was expecting, but what Arthur did finally say caught him off guard.

"Ariadne called off the wedding," Arthur explained, making sure to keep his gaze straight ahead of him. Eames could see the man's clenched jaw in the dim light, his brows pulled together, his face dark.

The forger was taken aback by the sudden trickle of hope that threatened to present itself again. This was his friend, although estranged. He couldn't take any kind of pleasure out of his newly found misfortune. But he had come here, to see him. After everything that had happened, he had come here.

His heart beating a little faster, he took a deep breath. "That's a shame, I'm sorry," he said, looking down at his shoes as he walked. "Did she explain why?"

It took him approximately a millisecond to realize Arthur was no longer beside him. He had stopped walking and was planted a few feet behind him, his gaze seeking out his own.

He was looking down at the cobblestoned walk, seeming as if he was trying very hard to keep his face impassive as he smoothed the hair at the back of his head. He didn't look up yet, and Eames waited for him to gather his thoughts, albeit impatiently.

Arthur finally raised his head, heaving a sigh and giving Eames a wary, flickering glance. "She told me. . . she thought that maybe I would be happier with someone else," he said haltingly. "I think that maybe she was right."

He paused for a good few minutes, giving Eames an appraising look, but the other man didn't way a word. He was waiting for Arthur to say something first, or for his heart to pound out of his chest, or for the dream to end. He wasn't sure which, so he just stayed silent.

"I did love her, you know." Arthur insisted. He looked to the ground once more. "I just kept thinking about it for a month after it happened and I did. Just, not the way she wanted me to. Not the way I wanted to. I suppose things worked out what you would call, for the best."

There was no one else on the dark sidewalk, and the streetlight spilled its yellow light down on them, casting shadows across the point man's face. He looked as perfect as a statue. His features in stark detail against the black where the light didn't reach; an oil painting in black and gold.

Despite the subject of conversation, Eames' stomach clenched with want for the second time since Arthur had arrived, and this time he couldn't be bothered to hide it. He knew Arthur saw his reaction to him when he sucked in a breath, Eames' heart beating even faster, his breath coming quicker when the other man took a step towards him.

"That night on our last job, when you kissed me. . ." he trailed off, and Eames immediately averted his gaze, his face flushing. He tried to prepare himself for what was coming next. This night was going so out of control, he didn't even know what to expect.

He held his breath when Arthur licked his lips, as if he could still feel Eames' own. The forger barely held back a shudder at the thought.

"I should have pushed you away," Arthur stated, nodding as if affirming this to himself. "I should have, but I didn't. I didn't- want to."

Eames' breath left him in a whoosh, and he glanced at Arthur warily. Arthur's face remained pensive as he met the other man's gaze, but his eyes were softer now, less calculating. More based off emotion than thought for a change.

"I liked kissing you, Mr. Eames," Arthur admitted quietly.

Eames was at a loss for words as he processed what had just been said. He clutched his totem, his eyes averting as he tried to hide the emotions that were welling up inside him. Disbelief and careful joy rose up like a wave inside him. It was getting more and more difficult to repress as he took in Arthur's open expression.

"Did you," he finally said after he had gotten himself under some semblance of control.

Arthur stepped even closer, and Eames swallowed hard. "I knew I couldn't marry Ariadne- if I might have feelings for someone else." He paused, his eyes never leaving Eames' face as if gauging his reaction. Eames tried to employ his best poker face as Arthur continued. "That's why I came here, Eames. I wanted to make certain of what I felt before. See if it could come to anything. If you were willing to humor me."

"What exactly is it that you want from me, Arthur?" Eames asked. He was tired of vague explanations, of confusion. He needed it to be presented straight to him. He needed to know if he could dare to hope again.

Arthur appeared calm and confident when he answered a moment later. "I want whatever it is you're willing to give me, Eames. A relationship, a friendship, it doesn't matter at this point. I just know that I want to be here, with you. If you'll let me."

"You aren't messing with me, are you, Arthur?"

"No," the point man said immediately. "Not with this. I promise you."

"Being with me doesn't- I mean, being with a man doesn't put you off? It doesn't- disgust you?" Eames asked, genuinely taken aback by the thought of Arthur being so sure and forthright about this.

Arthur was the one to look confused at the question, shrugging. "I'd never really put that much thought into it before you kissed me, to be honest. But I don't see any reason why I would be disgusted."

The forger stared at him with a mix of awe and uncertainty, as if discovering a revelation, the most amazing thing he'd ever heard.

Arthur let out a small laugh. "Eames, there's no rule saying who you have to be with, who you have to be attracted to. You are who you are, there's no changing it. Male, female, it shouldn't matter," he said, as if it were the most simple thing in the world.

Arthur accepted him for who he was, Eames reiterated to himself. Not only that, he thought he might want to be with him. Arthur, his Arthur. He would have to call Cobb and thank him as soon as he got the chance. But not right now. Right now, Arthur was in front of him, and they had the whole night ahead of them, and Eames wanted to take advantage of that.

He smiled at the other man, and butterflies rose in his stomach as he grinned back, those dimples showing just for him. God, he was beautiful. He still had no idea what he did to him. But maybe that would change.

"Do you want to come up, then?" he asked, still a little wary, a blush creeping up his neck to heat his ears. He needn't have worried.

Arthur strode up to him, his arm gently brushing against his own, making him shiver. "It would be my pleasure."


	8. Chapter 8

I want to thank everyone for reading again. To be honest, this wasn't supposed to go anywhere, and I appreciate everyone's kind words and feedback. So here's the chapter I worked the story around and have been looking forward to. I mean what?

* * *

Arthur and Eames once again walked side by side down the street, looking to everyone else like maybe two businessmen coming back from a meeting, or two friends just out for a stroll. But the quietly searching, heat filled glances Arthur kept throwing at Eames were making the Brit so anxious that by the time they made it up to his apartment door, his hands were shaking so badly he missed the keyhole three times before it finally slid home and he swung the door open.

Arthur swept in before him. He had just enough time to close it behind him, making sure it was locked, before he found himself cornered against the wood by an eager looking Arthur. His face was so close he could feel his breath on his lips.

Fire erupted inside him looking into those dark eyes; dark with lust for him, for _him. _He was hard within seconds, and he held his breath as Arthur leaned in ever closer, eyes focused on the forger's lips. Those eyes closed, and Arthur's head tilted just enough to graze his lips against Eames'. It was almost chaste, still a little uncertain, and Eames did his best not to make any embarrassing noises at the feel of him. This was the first experiment for Arthur, to see if what he liked before could be recreated. He would have to be patient with him. But God was he willing.

Arthur pulled back after a mere second, but Eames kept his eyes closed a moment longer, clenching his jaw and swallowing a whine of protest that threatened to bubble up in his throat. When he did open his eyes, Arthur hadn't moved away. He was still so close, and he'd barely had time to wonder how he felt when Arthur's lips were on his again.

Still slow and cautious, Arthur's lips began to move against him, exploring softly. Eames let him take the lead, just concentrating on how good it felt to have the other man's lips on his after all this time. Having him kiss back, his long, lithe fingers grasping onto the lapels of his jacket as he crossed those last few inches and pressed himself into Eames.

It was the combined feel of Arthur's hips grinding into his and the caress of his tongue along his bottom lip that caused him to lose his cool. His whole body loosened, his arms wrapping around the other man's waist, hands sliding along the curve of his back and shoulders.

The moan that left his lips was far from dignified and at any other time he might have been embarrassed, but it was the last thing on his mind when Arthur made a small, desperate noise in the back of his throat, pressing him into the door with surprising strength.

Their lips worked against each other, hot and smooth, Arthur's tongue slowly sliding along his own, making Eames' knees weak. His erection was pressed painfully against Arthur's thigh, and when the other man shifted and his own arousal rubbed against it, they both gasped.

Eames couldn't help the shudder that passed through him. He still couldn't believe this was actually happening. This beautiful man was actually kissing him, making him feel like a teenager again. It was like he was on fire, desire burning him up from the inside out.

With one last long, slow sweep of his tongue, Arthur pulled back, his breath coming in ragged and shallow, his hardness pressed heavy and thick against Eames' hip. "Bedroom?" he breathed, stroking the side of Eames' face with his thumb.

"Don't want to take it a bit slower, darling?" the forger said, at the same time unbuttoning Arthur's jacket with trembling fingers.

Arthur took a steadying breath, swallowing hard, and Eames was almost too distracted by his adam's apple bobbing up and down to realize he was about to reply.

"Sorry I just- have never wanted anyone like this before," he said with a kind of wonder in his voice, his eyes flitting to every feature of Eames' face, as if he were trying to memorize it. The hunger in those dark eyes made Eames ache with need of his own. "It's- intoxicating."

Eames pulled him close again, just a mere brushing of his lips against Arthur's. "Never apologize for wanting me, Arthur."

Arthur hummed in response, taking the opportunity to resume their actions from before. They made quick work of each other's jackets as Eames started steering them toward his bedroom. By the time Arthur was ushered onto the mattress with Eames braced above him, he was shirtless with his dress pants unbuttoned, his shoes having long since been kicked unceremoniously off somewhere by the sofa.

The younger man was panting, his dark eyes glazed with lust, his lips parted slightly. Eames would have absolutely no problem just ravaging him right now with the way the usually stoic and cool point man was looking at him. He still had to keep in mind, however, that this was still new to him. He didn't plan on going all out tonight, but he could still show him how much he wanted him while being patient. He had a never ending supply of patience when it came to Arthur, he supposed.

Leaning down, he joined their lips again, working Arthur's mouth open and taking dominance. He trailed his hand down the younger man's chest, thumb skimming his erect nipple, continuing on to the taut skin of his stomach, making him arch up and buck his hips upward. Despite the obvious need in the man's body language, Eames took his time tracing his abs and feathering across that downy trail of hair which led down into his pants, an impressive bulge making itself known in the soft fabric.

"Eames, please," Arthur gasped into his mouth. Eames parted them abruptly and tugged his dress pants down along with any underwear he might have had on underneath, throwing them carelessly to the floor.

He knelt before him for a moment, as if frozen. God he was beautiful. That smooth, pale skin nearly glowing in the dim light thrown by the small lamp on the bedside table. Fists clenched in the sheets of Eames' bed, legs spread wantonly, cock red and swollen against his stomach. Just as long but thicker than he had imagined. And the need in his eyes. It was for him. Finally it was for him.

Stripping himself down to just his boxer briefs, Eames leaned in for another kiss before continuing his earlier motions with his mouth. He loved the way Arthur bit his lip and squirmed beneath him when he teased his nipple with his teeth, only allowing a muffled moan to escape him.

He worked his way down as slowly as he could, but the anticipation of hearing Arthur at his highest point of ecstasy caused him to kneel between the man's legs only a few moments later. Looking past his erect, weeping cock, Eames searched his face for any kind of doubt or reluctance, but Arthur just stared back at him with half-lidded eyes and nodded slightly.

The urgency in Arthur's eyes was the last straw, and Eames didn't even give warning before taking the man into his mouth as far as he could, his tongue rubbing slowly along the head.

The choked moan that tore its way from Arthur's throat went straight to his own member, and he was almost afraid he'd come right there without even having been touched, but he was still careful to be slow.

He coaxed release from Arthur bit by bit, licking that spot just under the head he knew was fantastic, sliding his fingers along the seam of his balls and gently pressing up on the spot just behind them where the prostate was deep inside, until the man came with a drawn out groan.

Eames let him grasp at his hair as he rode it out, until he was a trembling mess in front of him, spent and loose. Eames took a moment to revel in the sight and the taste on his lips before he crawled back to him.

The forger was sure every time he thought of this moment he would be hard again in an instant. Arthur looked wrecked. His eyes were still closed, his breathing shaky and deep, that delightful flush slowly diminishing in his face and chest. Eames watched as he finally looked up at him, a satisfied and slightly awed smile curving his lips. He opened his mouth, closed it again, shaking his head, and Eames was almost scared for a moment that maybe he had changed his mind already.

The thought didn't even have enough time to fully form before Arthur hooked his hand around the back of his neck, pulling him into a hungry kiss. The thought of Arthur tasting himself on Eames' tongue, of tasting himself on Eames' tongue and liking it, made a moan rumble up the forger's throat, and his cock twitched insistently against his underwear.

Arthur grinned against his lips. "I think this is the part where I take care of you now," he murmured, pushing Eames onto his back, one knee between the older man's legs.

Even with Eames having taken it as slow as he could stand with Arthur, the point man went even slower with him. He seemed to need to touch Eames everywhere he could reach, tracing his tattoos with his fingertips and then his tongue, leaving small bite marks on his neck and shoulders and chest. His fingers sifted through Eames' chest hair while his mouth found one of his nipples, sucking it into his mouth and nibbling it gently, his other hand making its way from his knee to inner thigh.

All through this exploratory discovery of his body, Eames kept his lower lip trapped between his teeth and one fist clenched so hard in the sheets he could feel his fingernails through the fabric. Trying to concentrate on not coming this soon and not making any more noise than was absolutely necessary deemed itself a task of a lifetime when this man, the man he thought he would never have, was eagerly mapping out every way to make him lightheaded with pleasure. He would have checked his totem once more just to make sure this was reality, but he found that at the moment, he honestly didn't care.

The groan Eames had been valiantly trying to hold back burst from him when Arthur's hand finally settled between his legs, giving his achingly hard shaft a cautious stroke through his underwear. Arthur leaned in to kiss him on the mouth again, giving another gentle tug, and Eames nearly whimpered, the familiar tightening of his balls a warning of how close he already was.

"Arthur," he whispered against the other man's lips in a shaky breath. "I'm- not going to last long."

Arthur nibbled his lip in response before leaning back and settling himself between Eames' legs, pulling the man's boxers down and discarding them. The sight of Arthur's already stiff member caused another pulse of heat and pleasure to twist his gut, and he had to clench his jaw hard and reconcentrate on lasting just a little while longer.

"You don't have to," he breathed as Arthur steadied himself against Eames' thigh, his mouth only inches away from his erection.

Arthur gave him another one of those smiles before forming a ring around the base of his cock with his fingers. "I know. I want to."

Eames couldn't tear his eyes away as Arthur lowered his head with an almost quizzical look on his face before sliding his tongue over Eames' slit, lapping away the pearly drop of pre-cum that had collected there. That was all it took for Eames to nearly sob with need, throwing his head back against the pillow and arching his hips up to meet Arthur's mouth.

Arthur obliged quite enthusiastically, mimicking what Eames had done and sweeping the flat of his tongue along the shaft, curling it along the spot where it met his sack before sliding it back up and deep-throating him, all while his fingers massaged his balls.

The pressure built up in his lower spine and abdomen, his muscles tightening to an agonizing degree, and he came so suddenly he couldn't help but cry out. Waves of pleasure rolled through him, so intense he saw stars. He was aware of Arthur's mouth still on him, his hand slowly working him as his hips jerked shallowly, his release seeming to go on for glorious ages.

Finally he slumped against the bed, trembling and breathing hard through his open mouth. Arthur shifted to lie beside him, licking his lips, his expression thoughtful.

"God, that was so fucking good," Eames said in one long breath, sweeping sweaty strands of hair out of his face. He flushed when he realized he'd vocalized that thought, but Arthur looked pleased, his own color rising just enough to tint his ears.

"I'm glad. I mean- I'd never- I wasn't sure if…" he trailed off, his blush growing to stain his cheeks as he looked down, nodding. God he was just so lovely. Aching need rose in Eames' chest, the need having almost nothing to do with sex, and he pulled him in for a long, almost chaste kiss. _I love you. God I love you so much. _

He could feel it like a fist squeezing his heart, and he was scared because he felt so close to having him after all this time. If he lost him now it would be so much harder than it was before. Maybe impossible to overcome. But right now he was here with him and that was all that mattered.

They parted, their lips making a soft, wet sound. Eames played with the short, damp strands of hair on the back of Arthur's neck and quirked his lips at the other man's erect member between them.

"Looks like this could turn into a vicious cycle, eh?" he said, heat making his words come out husky. Arthur let out a shaky laugh, returning the man's gaze.

Eames' hand slid down from Arthur's neck, over his shoulder and side to his hip, readjusting so that Arthur was once again on his back and Eames faced him, propped up on his elbow. He let his fingers dance across the sensitive skin along Arthur's hipbone, watching as his eyelids fluttered and he jerked almost imperceptibly.

He nuzzled along Arthur's jawline, biting at his earlobe. "Do you want me to?" Barely a breath in the other man's ear.

Arthur hummed, arching his hips up, sucking in a breath when Eames' wrapped his calloused fingers around him. Eames watched with a mix of adoration and lust as he slowly worked him to orgasm again.

His eyes never left his face, and Arthur maintained eye contact as best he could, making Eames' heart stutter in his chest. Arthur's hips thrusted in time with Eames' hand, his breath coming in shaky gasps. Every moment of pleasure Eames witnessed in those dark eyes until he arched off the bed, moaning loudly as he came for the second time.

Eames kissed his shoulder and neck and everywhere he could reach as Arthur recovered. Somehow Arthur's hand had found its way to the back of the older man's head, and he absently ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back away from his face. Eames looked down at him again, and a small, contented smile formed on the point man's lips.

This. This was what Eames wanted. Just that one look from this man meant everything was good. Arthur was satisfied and happy with Eames, or at least with what he was letting him do. His heart squeezed again, but he managed to grin back without portraying how much this actually meant to him. He hoped.

Arthur glanced down to Eames' hardness, that same quiet chuckle escaping him. "Guess you were right about that vicious cycle."

"I'm alright for now," Eames replied with a smile, leaning to get some tissues from the bedside table so Arthur could clean up. "I just needed to see you- again."

Arthur licked his lips and smiled self-consciously as he wiped away the mess, tossing the tissue in the waste basket by the bedside table. He settled back into the bed and Eames pulled the sheets up over them, noticing the goose bumps on Arthur's skin. He figured he should probably start a fire soon, but watching Arthur close his eyes and heave a deep, contented sigh gave him more motivation to stay in bed rather than get out of it.

He shifted closer to the other man, his head lying in the crook of his neck, and closed his eyes, a smile still on his face.

It was a little while later, Eames in a half doze, when Arthur spoke again. "Eames, can I ask you something?"

Eames roused himself slightly, humming an assent in Arthur's direction. He opened his eyes when an answer didn't come right away, and he saw Arthur looking at him, unsure.

"Outside, when I expressed interest, it seemed like you didn't understand how that could happen. You said you thought I'd be disgusted at the thought of it. I just- I don't understand, why would I be disgusted?"

Eames sighed, propping himself up slightly, his eyes not quite meeting Arthur's. "I didn't mean anything personal by it, really. I was just never sure how you felt about- homosexuality, and I've had my fair share of experiences with people who knew how they felt and weren't afraid to let me know."

Arthur frowned, mimicking Eames' position and tracing his fingers down the man's arm. "Like who?"

Eames tried to ignore the sensations those slow movements were sending throughout his body and shrugged noncommittally. "Just some acquaintances, old friends, you know."

He could feel Arthur's eyes boring into him and grudgingly looked up to meet his disbelieving gaze. Of course Arthur would know there was more than that. The point man knew him too well for his own good.

Eames bit his lip and let his own hand wander to the expanse of Arthur's side and chest, making the man's breath hitch becomingly.

"My father was never too keen on having a queer for a son. I'd known since I was young, but when he actually found out when I was sixteen, he threw me out on my arse and left me to fend for myself. My mum died when I was only little, so he was all I had. He died a few years back. Didn't even bother calling me to tell me he was sick."

Arthur nodded, still tracing patterns absently in Eames' skin. "There wasn't anyone else? Just your father?"

Eames paused, knowing what Arthur meant but not knowing if he wanted to share such an intimate detail of his life with someone. But this wasn't just someone, was it. This was Arthur. If he wanted him to stick around he would have to be open and honest with him. Not one of his strong suits but he had to at least give it an effort.

He scratched the back of his head, grimacing slightly at the memory he was dredging up. "There was someone. A man who I worked with maybe eight or nine years ago, right after I got out of the army and had just started trying my hand at forging in dreams.

"He was the extractor, and I had a thing for him, and he knew it. After every job he would go blow off steam by picking up random girls at bars for one night stands. I don't know if it was his way of assuring he was in reality or of celebrating or what, but I knew that I wanted it to be with me. I just, I wanted him, you know?

"So one night after a job I, uh, I expressed my interest, if you will. At first he wouldn't go for it, he was just into women. But a blowjob is a blowjob, and I was very willing to cooperate. Didn't take him long to change his mind.

"We fucked for a good few months there. In the beginning I thought that I was very lucky to have found someone who liked me, and that maybe I was falling in love. But I came to realize that for him it was just sex. A good way to loosen up after a job. It really didn't mean anything to him.

"I tried to convince myself that that was all I really needed, but it hurt too much after a while, so I ended up giving him an ultimatum. Either we could have a go at making an official relationship or we stop altogether. He chose the latter, saying he would never be in a relationship with a fag like me."

He paused, shaking his head and scoffing quietly. Arthur's brows were furrowed, his mouth set in a frown. "I'm sorry."

Eames just shrugged again, his face clearing. "It really doesn't matter, I'm over it. It's just that ever since then, when it seems like something good's about to happen to me I usually find it hard to believe."

"Well I would never do that to you, Eames," Arthur insisted. "I mean, I can't promise anything, just because of our different lives and our jobs and all the factors that come into play. But I can tell you that if I didn't like being with you-" he scooted closer, "and I wasn't attracted to you-" he cupped Eames' jaw in his hand and brushed his thumb over his lip, "I wouldn't be here right now. I am nowhere near being disgusted by you or the thought of- having sex with you."

Arthur's voice had lowered into a velvety whisper, slightly hoarse with renewed desire, and Eames could feel his blood flowing to between his legs again. Arthur was flicking his gaze from Eames' eyes to mouth to bare chest and back as he continued.

"In fact, after you kissed me that night, I went home and had to get myself off because I couldn't stop thinking about it."

Eames moaned low in his throat at the thought of Arthur touching himself while thinking about him, pretending it was Eames' hand instead of his own.

"What did you think about? Tell me," Eames said, turning so his face was only inches from the other man's.

Arthur licked his lips, surprised at the request, but he continued. "I thought about what would have happened if you hadn't stopped. If you had pinned me there against the wall with your body and your mouth and your heat." Arthur gasped as Eames' traveling hand brushed the oversensitive skin between his legs, and Eames jerked when Arthur grabbed hold of his own hardness, tugging once before opening his mouth again.

"I think I would have let you, because you felt so damn good against me, like nothing I'd ever felt before. I would kiss you back, until we were both-ah-panting. You would turn us around and- lead us to the back table, where you would lift me up."

Arthur made a whining noise when Eames wrapped his fingers around the other man's half-aroused member, running his thumb feather-light along the underside. "Eames, I can't-"

"Come, darling. Keep going," Eames breathed, his toes curling when Arthur's own hand moved along him. Both men were heavy lidded, breathing in each others shaky moans as they touched each other.

Arthur continued, staring straight into the other man's eyes. "You'd know I'd never-mmm-been with a man. You'd be careful but not too much. Spreading me open with your fingers first before entering me… torturously slow."

Eames was nearly whimpering, having these dirty, erotic, amazing things whispered in his ear as Arthur worked him, his thumb gently pushing under his foreskin, sending a jolt through him. Arthur massaged the ultra-sensitive skin there with one hand while the other stroked his shaft until Eames thought he would go crazy with pleasure.

Arthur was fully erect now, his skin flushed, his lip clamped between his teeth, his hips thrusting erratically into Eames' hand. He kept going.

"It would hurt at first, but then you would find that spot, that one spot, and I would tell you- to go faster because I needed it. I needed you to- make me- ah-"

Arthur's hips thrust forward once more, spilling everything he had left with a strangled cry, the other man following with a groan and a muffled expletive as he ducked his head into Arthur's shoulder.

Eames stayed that way for a moment after, sliding his nose against the man's collar bone and taking in the smell of his damp skin. "You thought of all that just after we kissed?" he eventually asked, raising his eyes to meet Arthur's.

The point man's lips quirked up in a quick smile. "You always did underestimate my imagination."


	9. Chapter 9

Eames awoke to the sun's bright rays spilling through the open curtains, the chill of the morning air making his naked skin break out in goose bumps. It only took one breath, the scent of Arthur's cologne, of musk and sweat and sex, to bring back all the memories of the night before. A rush of butterflies filled him and he grinned into his pillow.

His arm reached out to the other side of the bed but all he felt were cool, empty sheets. His heart dropped and the knot in his stomach that had finally dissolved during last night's actions made itself known again.

Arthur was gone. He had had his fun the night before but had decided he didn't want any more to do with it, so he had left, knowing that his absence would be explanation enough.

Eames sat up, turning and scanning the room. Arthur's clothes were gone. It was almost as if he'd never been there. He swallowed hard, rubbing his hand over his face. This wasn't the end of the world, he reminded himself. He'd been through this before, he could handle it again. He would have to, wouldn't he? It would probably be even harder this time, now that he had gotten a taste of what he had been missing. Because he knew what Arthur felt like now. What he tasted like. How his eyes looked when they were filled with lust for him. Or so he had thought.

He must have done something wrong. Maybe he had misinterpreted what Arthur had wanted last night. Maybe he'd only wanted to talk about what exactly they felt towards one another, because if he was being honest with himself, it hadn't been covered in great detail. He should have stopped them and insisted on taking it slow. Of course his libido had harbored other ideas. If anyone had to be blamed for this, it would be him.

He groaned and sat up in bed, throwing his legs over the side and starting to gather up articles of clothing, tugging on his boxers and a pair of pants. He wasn't sure what to do with himself yet. Either go about his daily routine pretending nothing had happened or get piss drunk as soon as he could.

He had a feeling the night before would come swimming back to him if he did the latter. The feel of Arthur's smooth skin, the earnestness in his movements, those noises he had made. And if anything he wanted to forget those things, and start reburying his devotion to the man.

The bedroom door was open, and he padded into the living room, fiddling with his belt morosely.

"Do you have any coffee?"

Eames' head whipped up so fast he thought he might have whiplash later, but all he could think of now was Arthur. He was still here, in his kitchen, his hair soft and disheveled, his pants wrinkled and his shirt only halfway buttoned and rolled up his forearms, asking for coffee.

Here. With him. He was still with him.

His shock must have been written all over his face, for Arthur gave him a questioning sidelong glance as he stepped closer, his lips turning up in a confused smile.

"You're still here," Eames murmured, his hands dropping to his sides.

Arthur continued to look confused for a second longer before an exasperated sigh left him and he closed the distance between them. Under the false sense of Arthur humoring him, Eames could see the sincerity in his eyes as he leaned in close.

"Eames, I'm not going anywhere. Especially without you knowing. Am I making myself clear?"

Eames felt his whole being fill with warmth, and he ducked his head to keep a vastly relieved smile from appearing on his face. The words he had let slip from his memory before came back to him, reminding him in Arthur's own words that he wouldn't be here if he didn't want to be. He supposed he should try to remember that.

"Yes sir," he said when he could speak again. "I will never doubt again."

Arthur smiled, his finger hooking in one of Eames' belt loops. "Quoting _Princess Bride _already? Inconceivable." He leaned in and kissed Eames on the lips, a smile still curving his own. Eames grinned against the other man's mouth, feeling himself fall for him even deeper. And accepting that maybe this time it wasn't such a bad idea.

Eames pulled back after a moment, licking his lips and searching Arthur's face. "I believe I heard you say you wanted some coffee."

* * *

A/N: Felt like writing some fluff after all that angst. This is not over. I'm currently working on a sequel as well as maybe a version of this in Arthur's point of view, but the sequel is more probable. Feedback would be lovely on what you guys would want more. I'm so grateful for everyone reading this, thank you guys so much!


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